Oh, Christmas Tree
by danger.angel
Summary: Angelina and Montague fight over their Christmas tree.


**Oh, Christmas Tree**

"I just don't think it's right." Angelina Johnson worried her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes narrowing.

From his seat across the room, Dmitry Montague narrowed his eyes at his lover. "I just don't think it's right." If he heard the phrase one more time Angelina would be sleeping on the couch for the next week. Even though she vehemently denied it, Angelina was just as addicted to him as he was to her.

"Maybe we should put it back in the corner."

Dmitry scowled at her. Every muscle in his body ached from the three hours he'd spent moving the six foot spruce Christmas tree from one corner of the room to the next. He could've used magic but he'd been determined to play the strongman. He'd developed a complex after Angelina had continually gushed over Marcus Flint. He'd not only chopped down his and Katie's tree, but had also dragged it from the forest to the cottage they shared. Marcus had practically been preening as the girls lauded his strength. Noting Dmitry's glares he'd laughed. "I'm not pretty like you. I have to work with what I've got," he'd said. That hadn't made Dmitry feel better, hence the current pain. He was going to hex Marcus into oblivion the next time he saw him.

"Maybe it's the design. Maybe only certain designs work in certain places. Maybe we should try the traditional look here."

As well as continually moving the tree Angelina had also changed the decorations. The first look had been the mentioned traditional with its red bows, white glass lights, and red, gold and green ornaments. The second had been white fairy lights, crystal ornaments, and white beads. The third differed from the second only because large white tulips had been added. The fourth had been something modern and Muggle inspired. It had entailed turning the tree a white, keeping the crystal ornaments and adding a few silver ones.

"Yes. I think we should change the design."

Dmitry's jaws clenched. He never thought it would be possible that one day he'd feel like killing Angelina over a Christmas tree. Quidditch maybe, but never a Christmas tree. He now understood all those stories in the _Daily Prophet_ about husbands and wives who suddenly snapped, killing their spouses because they'd left dirty dishes in the sink. It really was the small things.

"What do you think?" Angelina turned to Dmitry with a hopeful look.

"Do you care?" he replied, too annoyed to hold his tongue.

Hurt immediately registered on Angelina's face. "Of course I care. This is our tree. You're the one who said you didn't care one way or the other and I could do whatever I wanted." She became defensive, folding her arms.

"When I said that I meant I didn't care what the tree looked like just as long as I didn't pull a muscle in the process of getting it finished. Guess what? I'm feeling like something's been pulled."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Like what?"

"Ow would've been good."

Dmitry shook his head. He knew if he said anything they'd likely end up fighting. He grudgingly admitted to himself that he was keeping his silence because he also didn't have a good retort. The pain was blocking his higher brain functions.

"I'm going to take a shower. The tree's staying right there and when I get out however it looks is the way it's staying for the rest of the holiday."

"So now you're putting your foot down."

He put on a false smile he knew would irritate her. "Yes."

"So our tree is going to be a fight tree."

"A what?"

"A fight tree. Every time we look at it we're going to be reminded that we didn't choose it because we liked it but because it's the end result of a fight that was never resolved. So our whole Christmas is going to be ruined because that tree is going to bring up bad feelings. By Christmas morning, we'll probably hate it each other."

Dmitry stared at Angelina, dumbstruck. "Woman, you are bloody barmy!" he cried, lapsing into the colloquial he'd absorbed after too many years of being Marcus' friend.

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm right. If we're going to do this then we're going to do this together." Angelina went to the settee and sat beside him. "What do you want?"

The shortest distance between two points was a straight line, Dmitry had heard. If he wanted to get any peace today he'd have to comply with her. "The tree's not moving," he said in a softer tone.

"Done," Angelina replied. "I really want to keep the fairy lights."

"Alright."

"And the crystals."

"Fine. I really hated the last tree. It didn't look proper. The tree stays green. Maybe we should use some of the ornaments from the first batch of decorations."

Angelina agreed, shocking Dmitry.

"You're not going to argue with me. You're just going to accept it."

"Yes. You know if you'd voiced your opinions earlier I wouldn't have spent all that time obsessing over the tree, trying to think of what would be perfect to suit the both of us."

"So I wouldn't have all this pain if I'd opened my mouth."

"Your own fault." She kissed his cheek cheerfully and started for the corridor.

"Where are you going?"

"To have a bath. You can join if you like. I wouldn't mind if you said no."

Dmitry raised his brow. The hell she wouldn't. He shifted, getting himself comfortable. Odds were she jumped out of the shower in five minutes to see where he was. He smirked, getting ready to revel in his victory.

Of course, they met each other three minutes later in the corridor.

**-end-**


End file.
